"I beg your pardon, Donna Prudencia," he said. "I was asleep, and dreaming; not of angels!" he added, as he made another low bow, which included Rita in its sweep of respectful courtesy.
He spoke English like an Anglo-Saxon, without trace of accent or hesitation. His hair and complexion were brown, but a pair of bright blue eyes lightened his face in an extraordinary manner.
Who might this be?
"Mr. Delmonty, let me make ye acquainted with Miss Margaritty Montfort!" said Señora Carreno, with some ceremony. "Miss Montfort is stoppin' with us for a spell. Both of you bein' half Yankee, I judged you might be pleased to meet up with each other."
Rita bowed with her most queenly air; then relaxed, as she met the merry glance of the blue eyes.
"Are you?" she said. "I am very glad—but your name is Spanish."
"My father was a Cuban," said the young man; "my mother is American. She was a Russell of Claxton." He paused a moment, as if inviting comment; but Rita, brought up in Cuba, knew nothing of the Russells of Claxton, a famous family.
"I've been in the North most of the time since I was a little shaver," he went on, "at school and college; came down here last year, when things seemed to be brewing. Have you been much in Boston, Miss Montfort? We might have some acquaintances in common."
Rita shook her head, and told him of her one summer in the North. "I hope to go again," she said, "when our country is free. When Cuba has no longer need of her daughters, as well as her sons, I shall gladly return to that fair northern country."
Again she caught a quizzical glance of the blue eyes, and was reminded, she hardly knew why, of her Uncle John. But Uncle John's eyes were brown.